Ashes Of Memories

• Francesca Jaeger, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2022

I run, flames drawing nearer with each hurried step. The acrid smell pierces my nose. Barely being able to see with the thick layer of smoke, people run around aimlessly. I pause, catching my breath. Looking back I watch as the dark night sky is ablaze by the burning building. I hear screams for help, screams of pain and sorrow. All these faces I’ve seen before, wandering the corridor, now striked with panic. I see a young mother holding her toddler tight to her chest as she desperately tries to escape the fire. A husband passed out with the wife crying and screaming for help. A child in a wheelchair struggling to keep up with all the running people. Mr Johnson from 5E is just sitting on a bench, waiting for the fire to take him to his beloved daughter. My eyes land on a payphone quietly sitting on the side of the pavement, waiting to be picked up. Just a little closer. I begin getting dizzy and my eyes start watering from the smoke. I reach out for the payphone but all I get is air. Another meter, merely a meter. I begin coughing, my lungs filled with smoke. I reach the phone and dial 000. I try talking, yelling, but all that comes out are coughs. “Fire…” I manage to choke out. Questions flood in as tears begin falling down my face. The smoke is getting thicker, making it harder to breathe and speak. I drop the phone down as my knees buckle and I collapse. Lying on the hot concrete pavement I watch as the only home I’ve ever had slowly deteriorates. Suddenly I hear sirens in the distance. I open my eyes painstakingly to see the red and blue lights of the large fire truck pulling up outside. They begin yelling to each other as they throw around hoses and buckets of water. Some firefighters help retrieve people from the building while some try to ineffectively put out the fire. I take a breath in but choke on ash. A young man coming from an ambulance helps me up. I hear his voice, a whisper in my ear, “you did a good job. You’re safe now.” I let myself fall into his arms and the faintness takes over.
Slowly I walk through the wreck. I walk past spots where people died just last night. I walk through the eerie corridor, ash receding on all the wood that’s fallen down. The air poisoned. I see the stairs. Now blackened from the fire once shone and sparkled. Slowly I count the doors till I reach my room. The number “108” burnt. Walking in is overwhelming. Nothing is how it used to be. I find a photo, once a precious memory of my father, now a scrap, rubbish. Tears fall as I sit on what’s left of my bed. My whole childhood, my whole life, gone. No memories. No family. I’m all alone. What happens next?